Have you ever noticed that there are people who do things which are most indelicate, and yet at the same time – beautiful?
E. M. FORSTEROne grows accustomed to being praised, or being blamed, or being advised, but it is unusual to be understood.
More E. M. Forster Quotes
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How can I know what I think till I see what I say?
E. M. FORSTER -
But Humanity, in its desire for comfort, had over-reached itself. It had exploited the riches of nature too far. Quietly and complacently, it was sinking into decadence, and progress had come to mean the progress of the Machine.
E. M. FORSTER -
The four characteristics of humanism are curiosity, a free mind, belief in good taste, and belief in the human race.
E. M. FORSTER -
Human relations are impossible. When they are real they are uncomfortable, and when they are comfortable they are unreal. It was for the journey into solitude that the human soul was created.
E. M. FORSTER -
Life never gives us what we want at the moment that we consider appropriate.
E. M. FORSTER -
It isn’t possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.
E. M. FORSTER -
Only a writer who has the sense of evil can make goodness readable.
E. M. FORSTER -
Aziz winked at him slowly and said: “…There are many ways of being a man; mine is to express what is deepest in my heart.
E. M. FORSTER -
Outside the arch, always there seemed another arch. And beyond the remotest echo, a silence.
E. M. FORSTER -
Think before you speak is criticism’s motto; speak before you think, creation’s.
E. M. FORSTER -
One of the evils of money is that it tempts us to look at it rather than at the things that it buys.
E. M. FORSTER -
Do we find happiness so often that we should turn it off the box when it happens to sit there?
E. M. FORSTER -
When you come back you will not be you. And I may not be I.
E. M. FORSTER -
A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.
E. M. FORSTER -
Life is a public performance on the violin, in which you must learn the instrument as you go along.
E. M. FORSTER